


To Create the Future

by kjack89



Series: True Blood AU [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: 1900s America, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood Drinking, Developing Relationship, F/M, Prostitution, Vampire!Grantaire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-17
Updated: 2013-11-17
Packaged: 2018-01-01 21:37:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1048851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kjack89/pseuds/kjack89
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/920080/chapters/1786602">Blood Tomorrow</a>. For Grantaire Shipping Week. Grantaire meets someone unexpected when he ventures into town for blood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Create the Future

**Author's Note:**

> Technically a True Blood AU, but details relating to True Blood are basically nonexistent in this particular fic. 
> 
> Usual disclaimer: if it seems familiar to you, I probably don't own it. All mistakes are rather unfortunately my own. Title is from a quote from the Brick: "There is nothing like dream to create the future. Utopia today, flesh and blood tomorrow."

Grantaire was cautious, as he always was when going into a human town or city. Part of him missed the old days, when civilization was so spread out that it was far easier to flit from place to place without running into anyone. At the same time, though, the human proclivity towards growth in this country at least meant a more ready supply of food.

And he was hungry. He had not eaten in almost a week, which was dangerous, and he knew it. But the thought of going into town, glamouring some poor man or woman just to suck their blood held little appeal for him now.

Not, of course, that it had held much appeal for him ever. Despite almost 800 years now of his second life, Grantaire had never been as comfortable as some of his brethren with the casual feeding and even murder that they inflicted on humans all in the name of their own wretched survival.

Grantaire wasn’t even sure survival was that important to him anymore.

It had started as an itch, a decade or so ago, something under his skin that told him that this, this eternal living — if one could call it life — was somehow  _wrong_. He had spent the past decade wrestling with the growing desire to chain himself outside and meet the sunrise.

He had always wanted to see the sun one more time. No one, after all, loves the light so much as one who can never again see it.

But he was a coward, had always been a coward, and while his plans had ranged from wishful thinking to desperation, he had not yet followed through. And until he did, his body required blood to keep it going, and not even he could deny it for much longer.

So he made his way into the outskirts of a fairly standard city. He had lost track of where, exactly, he was — somewhere near the middle of the country, maybe? — but the towns and cities all looked alike to him anyway, so it made little difference.

On a different night, he might have worn cleaner, better-pressed clothing, taken himself out to a nice establishment, flirted with women and tried to entice one without the aid of his nature. But he was too hungry for that, would put far too many people at risk by doing that, so instead stuck to the alleyways and the dark, narrow corridors where he would find the desperate, those willing to do what they could for a bit of money.

If he was going to do this, he may as well enjoy himself.

As such, he passed over the first few that he saw, too skinny and too starving for him to do more than pity. But after several minutes, he found what he was looking for, a dark-haired, dark-eyed girl, probably in her teens who, though skinny and bedraggled as they all were, held herself with the confidence beyond her station.

Her dress was cut too low to be deemed proper, but not so low as to leave nothing to mystery, and Grantaire felt his fangs half-extend at what he saw. It had been far, far too long since he had felt a warm body pressed against his, since he took more than what would just get him through, since he had actually  _enjoyed_  himself. So he sidled close to her, offering a small smile. “Someone as beautiful as you should not be out alone on a night such as this.”

She cocked her head slightly as she examined him. “I am not one to be swayed by pretty words, sir,” she said in a low voice. “I am a woman of the night. If you have a proposition, speak plainly.”

Grantaire always laughed at the phrase “woman of the night”, as the women of the night he knew, those bound to eternal night much like him, were quite dissimilar to the too-thin, wide-eyed girl who stood defiantly before him. Still, he inclined his head. “But the words are true, no matter how prettily spoken,” he countered easily, his shoulders relaxed as he gazed at her. “If, though, you would rather to business, would you accompany me somewhere more private?”

Though her eyes narrowed ever so slightly, she nodded. “Lead the way.”

Before offering his arm for her to take, Grantaire doffed his top hat and told her, “My name is Grantaire. By what name may I call you, mademoiselle?”

She laughed lightly. “Are you from France, then, Monsieur?” she asked, taking his arm and carefully avoiding the question of her name. “Only, forgive me, but your accent does not sound French to my ear.”

“I am a citizen of the world,” Grantaire told her as they strolled slowly together. “But that, of course, does not answer the question of your name. I would call you any number of sweet things, most, I imagine, that you have already heard, but I would far rather call you by your proper appellation.”

Now she glanced at him almost shyly. “You may call me Éponine.”

“Éponine,” he pronounced carefully, drawing the syllables out and rolling them over his tongue. “A beautiful name befitting a beautiful figure, and I thank you for sharing it with me.” They walked on in companionable silence until they reached a hotel that would suit their needs just fine, seedy enough to avoid questions, but nice enough that Grantaire would not feel guilty afterward. He held the door for her and bowed her inside. “After you, Mademoiselle Éponine.”

Laughing again, she gave him a mock curtsy before stepping inside the door. “Thank you, Monsieur.” She waited patiently as he had a quiet conversation with the concierge, and then followed him up the stairs to the room he had rented for the night. Once she stepped inside, though, her tone turned brisk. “Before anything, we should discuss terms for the evening.”

Grantaire shrugged, setting his hat on the dresser and pulling his gloves off. “I am sure whatever your usual price is would be amenable. Money is of little concern to me.”

She smiled at him, flashing dimples. “You should perhaps not have said as such, sir, as I will raise my prices accordingly. But payment is not the only discussion we need have. There is also the question of what services you wish me to provide.”

“The usual,” Grantaire said quickly, too quickly perhaps, enough, certainly, to rouse suspicion, as her eyebrow rose. “I would bed you, mademoiselle, and pay you accordingly.”

Though she nodded, she was still giving him a look that he could not quite interpret. “And is that all you wish, or is there more that you would I could provide?”

Grantaire frowned at her, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “I am afraid that I do not follow. What services are you offering?”

She bit her lip for a brief moment, as if debating what she was about to say, but then shrugged before saying calmly, “You may bite me, Monsieur. I do not mind.”

Staring at her for a long moment, Grantaire forced a laugh. “Lovebites  _are_ something I enjoy giving,” he told her, smiling widely, but she shook her head.

“Those are not the kind of bites I had in mind.” She took a deep breath before stating carefully, “You can bite my neck. You can take what you need of my blood, if that is what you want.”

Grantaire stared at her again, shock and surprise written all over his features. His first instinct might have been to deny it, but he was too old now to truly care. If she staked him and brought him the final death, knowing what she knew, who was he to care? Was this not what he had wanted? So he inclined his head slightly. “You know what I am?” he asked, his voice light, almost gentle.

She shrugged. “I recognize your type. I have…serviced similar customers before. They are not so bad as you might think, and often pay far better than others.” She tilted her head, revealing her neck, and Grantaire, hungry as he was, was entranced by the blood that flowed so close to the surface there, and he crossed to her, crossing behind her, trailing fingers down the skin of her neck.

He kissed the veins there, nipping lightly at the skin with his front teeth, his fangs still hidden, if only just. “You would be amazed at how much money one can accrue over a few centuries. They say that money cannot buy happiness, but money can buy what one needs. And silence.”

Turning to face him, she looked up at him with almost somber eyes. “So you do not deny it? You do not deny…what you are?”

“Why should I?” Grantaire’s voice was quiet, but there was an edge to it. “If you have recognized what I am, I do not need to hide my particular proclivities, which will, I think, make this evening far more enjoyable for the both of us, even if when you wake on the morrow, you will have little memory of it. Or of me.”

She rested a hand on his arm. “You do not need to force me to forget. Your money buys my silence as much as anything.” She paused for just a moment before adding in a voice so quiet that were Grantaire not a vampire, he might have missed, “And I was hoping we could come to a different arrangement regarding my silence.”

Grantaire frowned slightly. “And what arrangement would that be?”

Though she glanced away quickly, Grantaire was still surprised by the sudden fierceness he saw in her eyes. “I would have no reason to reveal the secret if I shared it.”

It took a long moment for Grantaire to realize to what she was referring, and when he did, he shook his head, almost sadly. “You wish me to turn you into a vampire.”

“I do.” Her voice was firm and did not shake. “I want to be like you. Indestructible. Strong. Richer than imagining. Is that such a bad thing to desire?”

“It is when you know not what you are asking for,” Grantaire snapped, his voice tight. “You think that this is some kind of magical solution, but its downsides are so much worse than anything you might ever hope. An eternity, spent in darkness, reliant always on the blood of humans. Watching as your friends and family die before your eyes, helpless to save them, helpless to do anything. It is a very lonely existence, mademoiselle, and not one I would wish on my worst enemy, let alone a poor girl who thinks this is somehow her answer.”

Éponine whirled to face him, eyes flashing. “If you think I have not already watched my friends and family die before my eyes, you are very much mistaken. I already spend my existence in darkness, with the only trade that will pay even a portion of what I must make to survive. What you would grant me are the tools to an existence of my own making rather than as prey to someone else’s desires.”

Grantaire was taken aback by the vehemence in her voice, but only for a moment. Then he shook his head, almost sadly. “I am not in the business of saving damsels in distress.”

She lifted her chin defiantly. “And I am not in the business of being saved.”

He looked at her, really looked at her, at her dark, unflinching eyes, at the way she held herself, the way she looked at him without any fear or reservation, and smile slightly. “In another life you could have been a queen.”

“Give me another life and perhaps I will be.”

Now Grantaire laughed, a true, honest laugh. “You have more courage than perhaps any I have yet to meet. But courage will get you only so far. And I must warn you that if you were to go through with this, you would bind yourself to me permanently.”

She frowned. “That seems an odd warning, given everything else that comes with the existence I desire.”

He shrugged. “An odd warning, perhaps, but an important one. I am…I am not an easy being to get along with, and have avoided company for many centuries for that reason alone.”

“I find quite the opposite to be true,” she said boldly. “And I think if I have to spend an eternity bound to someone, I would far rather it be you than any of the others I have met.”

Grantaire laughed again, and could not restrain himself from kissing her on the lips, his hand reaching up to cup her cheek as he drew her to him. “You are a noble creature, but you do not know what you seek.”

“I know exactly what I seek,” she told him, a challenge in her voice, daring him to defy her. “If you wish, I would give you what you came here for without charge in exchange. A simple business transaction, as it is.”

Shaking his head sadly, Grantaire pulled back from her, though he still held her hand. “If we were to do this, I would not bed you like a common whore. I would treat you properly, take you to the finest room money can rent, and be gentle with you all night long until we were both sated.”

She laughed lightly. “But I am a common whore. And I would not ask that of you. I offer myself now in exchange for the services I seek. Either take the offer, or I shall be gone and we shall speak of this no more.”

Grantaire reached out, tracing up her jaw to tilt her chin with his finger as he considered. “I have been without companionship for a long time,” he said finally, looking at her with an unfathomable expression. “And though I would rather not do this at all, taking a companion would be perhaps the best thing for me and for where I find myself currently. And there is none I have met that intrigues me as much as you. But if we do this, I will not sleep with you, not now, not while you are human and thus fragile. I will take what blood I need, and the rest only to complete the transition. After that, once you have turned, we shall discuss more. Have you any goodbyes to make?”

Éponine shook her head, eyes dark. “And are you truly sure that this is what you want? There is no going back on this.” Now she nodded, a firm, easy nod, and Grantaire took a step back and took a deep breath. “Then we shall begin.”

His fangs slid out and in a moment he had crossed back to her, sinking his fangs into her neck.


End file.
